George is asleep again, and I've left Hannah holding down the fort while I go on the hunt for an angel. Not many of those in Forchester. Fortunately, mine paints a trail wherever he goes. I suppose they're meant to be fists with wings and halos, but they look more like pastries with moose antlers to me. The elves have been mapping the moose's migrations since Saturday night, and all signs point to Parkville. That narrows things down, but I've still got a lot of work to do tonight to find him. That work starts in Downtown, just behind Woodsman's Buffet.

"Knock knock," I say as I enter the alley. Jimmy's sitting there on his charred sheet of cardboard like a walrus, oblivious to the cold night air. He's using singed chopsticks to play solitaire with a battered set of cards. "You're getting good at that."

He shrugs. "Got no choice. They melt or burn in my hands, and mittens are too clumsy."

"I had an idea about that." I take a tin container out of my backpack and hand it to him. "Dominoes. Ceramic dominoes."

"Well, I'll be a monkey's uncle. Thank'ee, lil' lady."

I pat him on the shoulder and smile as my hand sizzles painlessly, his heat no match for my flame resistance. "Still getting the dreams?"

"Yeah, but I'm copin'. You?"

"I was only there a day. I'm fine."

"Aw, ya can't fool Fat Jimmy. But it'll be alright eventually. What brings you out here tonight?"

"Dillan. Do you know where he's staying?"

Jimmy shakes his head. "What do you want with him? I don't imagine nobody's readin' yer school paper in all this mess."

"No, but they will when it's over. They devoured the story I ran on you, and I want to start things off right with a story on Dillan's Fist of Derring-Do when things settle down and Coldriver reopens. I do have an ulterior motive, though. I have friends who need healing, and Dillan's power can do it."

He nods. "That it can. I've seen him use it. Lil' feller might just get his head on straight, if he gets himself away from those other people. Did you know the Fist tried recruiting me?"

"You turned them down?"

"Dillan's name is on the label, but that ain't Dillan's group no more. He don't seem to know know it, but that Cueball callin' himself Field Goal's pullin' the strings. Creepy stuff."

"Do you know where I could find any of them?"

Jimmy glances at the box of dominoes and scratches his ear. He looks back at me. "You don't mean him no harm?"

"None."

He sighs. "Alright. I don't know where he's stayin', but Reina's still in his group. She's calling herself X-Rey now, spelled with an E. Last I heard she's squatting in the brown brick house on Clay Lane, a few places down from Granite Street. Be careful asking about Dillan, though. She's the jealous type."

"Right. Thanks, Jimmy."

"Anytime, lil' lady."

I frown as I exit the alley. X-Rey. I don't know much about Reina Almanza. Like Dillan and Tyler Ashcroft, she's a student at St. James School of Prestige up in Vista Grande. Unlike the Ashcroft heirs, her parents are nobodies, small time barnacles latched onto Ashcroft Holdings. When she and the rest of Dillan's gang went missing last month, they were reported as runaways. That report was canceled after we escaped Pharmedica. Last week, she along with Brandon Gordon and both of the Ashcofts were again reported missing. A girl her age and build has been spotted with Dillan's Fist. And now thanks to Fat Jimmy, I know her codename, where she's staying, and that she's jealous of Dillan. A plan sprouts in my mind, and with luck and more information, I'll cultivate it into an angel tree.

The city groans around me as I walk, the night much darker than normal. Many streetlights are out, and most people are keeping their lights low at night. Gunshots echo in the distance. Ahead, half a dozen armed men and women in suits patrol the Downtown portion of Stoneleaf Boulevard. I veer south around them, keeping to the shadows. A dog barks behind a fence in Parkville but quiets as I continue. Then a man comes out of nowhere and shoves me into a hedge. I extract myself before he can pin me down, but he grabs my wrist before I gain any distance. "Come now, sweet cheeks," he slurs, and I can smell the alcohol on his breath. I reverse his grip and twist around behind him as I kick out his knee, using his own weight to dislocate his shoulder as he falls. Foster-Pop is a marine; what he lacks in affection, he makes up for in self defense training. A knee to the face ensures my assailant will be too disoriented to give chase, and the pale moonlit grass cushions my footfalls as I jog softly away from the scavengers his screaming will attract.

I stop running two blocks from Granite Street and crouch behind a tree. A small woman in a white vest and domino mask is leaning against an unlit lamppost up ahead, her posture exuding an easy confidence at odds with her stature. She's a sentry for the Fist, and possibly Reina herself. It's too dark to be sure from here. Keeping low, I move north through a yard to the next street. This one is clear. I scuttle forward and then quietly move south again for a better look. She's a few years older than Reina and she doesn't fit any of the descriptions or photos of other known superhumans. As I watch, she takes out a cigarette and holds it near her pursed lips. A puff of flame comes out from between them to ignite it, and I can almost feel the fire burning joyously as she breathes life into it. No, I can feel it. The pleasant sensation only lasts a moment before the small flame dissipates and leaves behind only the glowing end of her cigarette, a small ember of warmth floating in my mind's eye.

Using my phone with the flash turned off, I wait for the cigarette to flare brighter as she takes a drag and then snap the best picture I can manage. Once I've got it, I duck behind a house and send the image to Hannah over MESH Net along with the woman's location and a note about her fire-breath. If what I try next fails, I want the others to at least be informed.

I could go around and continue my search for Reina, but I don't actually need to find her specifically, and I don't think this woman and I will be able to use our fire powers against each other. She doesn't know that yet, so I have the advantage of surprise if things turn violent. I quietly backtrack a ways, tie my hair into the dorkiest set of pig tails I can manage, then step into the street and approach openly from a distance, hands splayed at my sides. I fake a slight limp for good measure. It's not hard; my knee is still a little sore from the nose it broke earlier.

"You there!" the woman calls when she sees me, her body flowing from lazy confidence to alert poise like a tiger spotting prey. "This neighborhood is closed. Go away."

"I want to t- talk to Dillan."

"I don't know any Dillans. Go home."

I take a step forward. "My n- name is Samantha. Samantha Hanover. My mom was b- beaten nearly to d- death. P- Please, I know Dillan can save her."

The woman relaxes a notch, then reaches into her vest with a sigh and withdraws a flashlight that she shines in my face, destroying my night vision. I keep one eye clamped shut while squinting through the light with the other. "Can't it wait until morning?" she asks, sounding exasperated. "He's sleeping."

"I d- don't know. I- Aunt Lulu said she lost a lot of blood, and we're scared to take her to the hospital, because... well..."

She moves the light out of my eyes and waves at the curb beside her. "Alright, come over here." I approach cautiously, and she groans at me a little as she sits down. "There's nothing to be afraid of, Samantha. My name is Dragon, but I don't bite. Have a seat. Tell me what happened."

I sit down next to her. "It was... there was a man. He- He kicked in our door. She tried to make him leave, but... She needs Dillan, Miss Dragon."

She sighs. "It's just Dragon. Look, Samantha, I know you're scared, but your mom isn't the only one who's been hurt. From what I heard, Dillan healed at least twenty people today. Even if we wake him up right now, he's not going to be able to do anything for a while. I know a little first aid. If you want, I'll get someone to cover my shift here so I can take a look at your mom and guard you two until morning, and then we can have Dillan come heal her up first thing. Okay?"

I think she's actually being honest. Huh. I shake my head. "Th- Thank you, but Aunt Lulu used to be a nurse, so I don't think there's anything you can do that she hasn't. We'll just... We'll just have to bring her in the morning. If she makes it. You'll still be here?"

"Not me, but I'll tell Buckler to expect you. Are you sure you don't want me to wait with you? That guy might come back."

I shake my head again and stand up slowly. "He w- won't. Aunt Lulu... st- stopped him. P- P- Permanently. We'll... We'll be okay until morning. Thank you, though."

She stands up and hugs me briefly before I limp away. I still don't know where Dillan is, but now I know he's asleep and probably won't be able to help George and Patty for a few hours. I don't want to wait until morning, though. It'll be harder to get him alone in the daytime, and I don't want any Cueballs tagging along. They let Dillan heal Wheels before, but that was a publicity stunt. I don't trust their charade. After sending Hannah another quick message, I resume looking for Reina.

Dragon isn't the only sentry out tonight, though I go out of my way to avoid the rest. I update the elves' map over MESH Net with the two others I spot on my way to Clay Lane. If I can't get a lead out of Reina, I can try searching the rest of the territory they're guarding.

Right now I'm more worried about what the name X-Rey implies about Reina's powers. If she can see through walls, she might see me coming and run. I stop three houses before hers and crouch behind an AC unit to watch the area. The metal might block her vision, depending how it works. Five minutes later I move to another AC unit across the street. I repeat this on the other end of the street as well, circling her location like a vulture. The neighborhood is dead, and the nearest sentry that I've seen is a block away. Reina's house has two stories. I don't see any casement windows; probably no basement. The ground floor windows are boarded up and the doors look intact. Bullet holes in the walls and a broken, plastic-covered upper window paint a story of recent violence in this area, though whether it happened before or after Reina's occupation of the home is still unclear.

The building's AC unit is on the south, so I circle around again until I'm lined up with it, then I hunch down and make my approach. With yet another cold metal box for company, I spend five minutes sitting and listening. An oddly familiar stench surrounds the house, but it's silent. Hopefully she's asleep. I crouch and stalk softly over to the back door. It's locked, but my lockpicks coax it open. I let myself in, leaving the door ajar behind me in case I need a quick exit. Besides, the place really needs to be aired out. She clearly tried to cover the smell with air fresheners, but it's not working.

Now that I'm inside, I can hear a soft snore. Moving cautiously and quietly, I track the peaceful logger to a closet under the stairs. As I open the door, I hear a click behind me. "Do not move," says a deadly quiet voice.

"Hi!" I say with a slurred voice. "Don't worry, I'm a lover, not a fighter!"

"Yeah right," she says. "Hands on your head, slowly."

I release the doorknob and the door swings open to reveal a media player connected to a speaker, from which the snoring is coming. I smile and lace my fingers behind my head. "Oh, clever!"

"Shut up. Turn around." I slowly pivot with a bit of faked wobble and get another flashlight in the face. "Who are you, and what are you doing here?" The voice is coming from a good distance to the side of the light; someone else must be holding it. The smell is getting even worse, and the memory connects. One of these people is Cassie Quinn.

"I'm Elizabeth Dunckel," I say with a giggle. "I'm here to give Tyler a very personal thank you." I punctuate that with a wink aimed toward the voice.

"Tyler doesn't live here. Try again."

I pout and sway a little. "What do you mean he isn't here?" I turn my pout into a scowl. "And who are you, anyway? You stay away from my Tyler!"

"Excuse me? Tyler is a pathetic worm. I wouldn't-"

"So he's really not here?" I whine.

"No, Tyler does not live with us. Why are you here? What do you want from us?"

"Nothing, unless you've been stealing my Tyler!" I throw in a hiccup for good measure. "Now where is he? And more importantly, where are those biceps of his?"

"Who told you we were here?"

"Nobody! That bald guy at Tipsy Lanes said Tyler lived here." I hiccup again. "Where are you hiding him?" I take a hand off my head and shade my eyes. "Are you Tyler? Very clever!" I can't see much, but it looks like there are three of them.

"God no. What bald guy?"

I giggle again. "He was really funny, but kind of old. Like, thirty maybe? He was a real sweetie though, even if he didn't have eyebrows. I think his name was..." I hiccup again. "No, not Hiccup. It was Bob or Cob or maybe Rod."

"Rob..." hisses a different voice.

"Yeah! Robby! That's the one! You know him? Isn't he just a riot? Almost as cute as Tyler."

"Yeah, he's a funny guy, alright," says the first speaker as she gestures for her friend to lower the flashlight. "Tyler isn't here. Rob lied to you. He probably thought this was a funny joke."

"But then where's my Tyler-poo?" I ask, aghast.

As my eyes adjust, I see that the third person is keeping a finger-gun trained on me, though the speaker's already lowered her very real gun. She glances at the other two, and Finger-Gun shakes her head, pale wavy hair bouncing with the movement. "I don't trust her."

"You don't trust anyone," mutters the girl with the flashlight. Judging by her short curly hair and darker complexion, I think she's Cassie. "And put your hand down. She's just some drunk airhead."

The one who's been doing most of the speaking has her dark hair in a messy bob; this one is Reina. She shakes her head. "A little paranoia doesn't hurt, Liz. Keep those fingers ready if you want." She turns back to me with a smirk as she holsters her gun. "But I think you're right, Cass, and I say we point her at Tyler. He's been way too uptight lately." She takes me by the shoulder and steers me firmly back outside, then points down the street. "Look over there. Do you see that building with the red roof?"

"Is that where he is? For real this time?"

"Almost. He's in the tree house behind it."

"A tree house?" I hiccup. "That's so cute!"

"Yes... it's completely adorable," she says in a dry voice. "Now go bother him and let us sleep."

"I'm coming, Tyler!"

Maintaining my drunken stagger for now, I traverse the next several yards without incident until I reach the property in question. There are no guards outside, but I definitely see movement and faint light inside the tree house. I've had some time to consider how to handle Tyler, and I think I've got it worked out. I undo my pigtails and put my hair up into a professional looking bun, then cover the lower half of my face with my bandana. I also tape the flame logos I've spent the last couple days drawing to the back and breast of my coat. Tacky and fragile, but they'll have to do for now until I can get some patches made. I step into the open and approach the tree house. "Cupid! This is the Masked Flame! I must speak with you!"

"The who?" yells Tyler's voice as something glints just inside the window.

"Pau..." I trail off, fighting a surge of honesty and compliance. So, George was right. Tyler manipulates emotions. I focus and speak deliberately. "I am the Masked Flame." I hold a fire in front of me for a few seconds of illumination before I snuff it. "I'm a friend of Wheels, and we need your help."

"Bull! Wheels doesn't take help. We've been needing his help, but where's he been lately? Prick up and ran soon as anyone else took a share of the spotlight! Probably found some other city where he can be the big fish in a small pond." There's that glint again. An arrowhead.

"You know better than that. Wheels is paranoid, not a glory hound. He was nearly killed on Friday. That's why he's been missing. He needs Dillan's healing."

"Little Bro already healed him."

"Yes, but he got hurt again after fighting Terence that night."

"Who's Terence?"

"Terence Raymonds, sixteen year old white male, five foot eleven, formerly one sixty pounds. Black hair, blue eyes. He had strength, high density, and near invulnerability. He attacked Coldriver High three weeks ago, got arrested, and broke out of prison that same evening. He-" I realize I'm rambling out of control and clamp my mouth shut while I try to focus.

"I think I know who you're talking about. What happened?"

I'm tempted to tell him about how Terence attacked George's mom, but I resist it. I really feel like Taylor is trustworthy, but I also know those emotions are fake. "They fought," I say simply. "Wheels survived, but only barely. It'll be a month before he's back on his skates, and at least two before he's moving at full speed."

"We ain't got a month. Fine. Tell me where to find him and we'll pay a visit tomorrow."

"N... No," Giving him partial information is one thing, but outright defiance is pretty hard. Still, it's doable if I pay attention. "No, I won't. He's paranoid, remember? He thinks Field Goal was working with Terence. It needs to just be Dillan. He's not scared of Dillan."

"I am not letting Dillan go anywhere alone."

"Fine," I say without thinking. "You can come with." I almost raise a hand to my mouth in surprise. "Will you stop that?!" I shout.

"So is that still a yes or is it a no now?"

My mouth opens again, but I force it shut before anything stupid comes out. I close my eyes and take deep breaths. Count to five. Think, don't feel. What happened just now was flippancy, not compliance. He didn't do anything to force me to say yes. He just made me not really care. Besides that, he's made me trusting, honest, docile, and talkative. If he wasn't dulling my negative emotions, I think I'd be extremely offended. However, without anger clouding my judgment just now, I think I can manage this. I was able to hide facts I didn't want to reveal, stop talking, and even directly refuse his orders. I can override his control. Assuming he's not just making me overconfident with his power. "Cupid. I'll make you a deal. I'll let you come with, but you need to promise to stay out of my head. If you break that promise, I will burn you. And no, your power is not going to protect you from that. Case in point." I grit my teeth and focus hard, then point my finger. The interior of the tree house lights up as a flame starts dancing in Tyler's hair.

"Ow! Ow!" He bats at his hair but nothing happens. "Fine, I promise! Stop it!"

Suddenly I feel angry, scared, joyous, and more than a little violated. Exactly how I'd expect to feel right now. I grin and cut off my fire, and the joy fades with the flame. "Thank you."

"But I'm also bringing Buckler," he adds quickly.

I rub my temples. "And who's Buckler?"

"Who's the Masked Flame? You could be with Pharmedica for all I know, but you claim to be a friend of Wheels. Well, I claim Buckler as a friend of mine. He's an original member of the Fist. Wheels'll recognize him, and I trust Buckler not to do anything too stupid unless you betray us."

"Hey!" shouts a sleepy second voice from inside the tree house.

"Shut up, Brandon." The arrowhead lowers and Tyler leans out of the window. "Besides, Dillan's probably not waking up for at least another hour, so you'll need help carrying him."

Ah, so Buckler is Brandon Gordon. His family was slightly better off than Reina's, but they imploded after his sister was murdered last year. His dad died in a car crash; it's believed he was drunk. His mom overdosed on heroine. Brandon himself ran away from the foster family he was placed with after his friends' parents or guardians refused to take him in. I'm pretty sure that's a key part of why the Fist of Doom formed in the first place. I nod to Tyler. "Fine, he can come too."

Thirty minutes later, Tyler raises a hand and motions us to stop. "Hemopalooza," he whispers back to us from the corner he's peeking around.

What. I leave Dillan with Buckler and peek around the corner myself. Sure enough, there's a group of four men and two women all in red socks, looming around a gagged and bound family shivering in their pajamas. Except one of the women in red socks is black, and I think the man next to her is Arabic. Meanwhile, the four people they're surrounding are solidly white. "No, that can't be Hemopalooza."

"They are. I recognize the guy with the mohawk. Heinrich, my ex-girlfriend's uncle. Don't ask."

"But since when do-"

"They've been weird ever since the dome went up. Saw that one's sister working with Pharmedica, even. And people are joining them. I don't know..." He trails off as Heinrich pulls an empty syringe from his coat and kneels before the youngest of their captives, a boy who couldn't be older than six. He slides the syringe into his own arm and pulls on the plunger. He smiles and says something to the horrified kid as the syringe fills with blood. The man pulls the syringe out, and one of his compatriots grabs the boy, holding out the kid's arm.

I can't just stand by and watch this. I throw myself around the corner and hurl fire at Heinrich. He drops his syringe with a scream and starts rolling on the ground as the other Hemopalooza members leap away and blink, trying to see me through the afterimage my line of fire scorched into their vision. I shoot another lance of flame at the white woman, but it bends around her for some reason, and at the same time the Arab's eyes glow green and I feel a searing pain in my abdomen. Great. They have powers too. As I stumble toward the nearest wall, I wave my arm and encase the one with the laser eyes in flame. He runs down the street in panic as I slump to the ground, but I'm not quite done. I can't touch the white woman, but I make a feeble movement with my hand and splash flames across the black woman and the other white guy. And that's it. All I can do now is curl up on the ground in pain. Whatever that guy did to me really hurts, and I can feel hot, sticky fluids leaking out of me. Crap. I don't want to...

I blink as I come to, pain free. Dillan is stumbling away from me toward the bound family, yawning widely. Two heavily burned corpses lie smoking on the ground, and two more lightly burned ones are nearby with arrows protruding from their torsos. The white woman I couldn't reach with my flames is cowering next to a dumpster and begging Buckler not to kill her. Tyler, meanwhile, is untying the four captives, directing Dillan to heal the father first. There's a flash of light, and then Dillan collapses. The man stares at his bloody but uninjured body in awe, prodding it gently.

I push myself into a sitting position and wince when something inside tugs painfully. I slide a hand under my shirt and probe around. My skin is slick with blood, but unbroken. The spot of skin where I was hit feels hot, but not sore. I prod it and wince again; Dillan must not have been able to fully heal the internal injuries. At least I'm not bleeding out. Hopefully I'm not still bleeding internally. I'll have to get Tamara or Lynn to check me over when when we get to Winston Biotech.

Wiping my hand on my pants, I watch as Tyler gruffly helps the mother to her feet and then shoos them all away. He picks up the dropped syringe and carries it over to Buckler where they whisper quietly, gesturing at it occasionally. I haul myself slowly to my feet and sneak over to listen in. "We should have seen this coming," Tyler mutters.

"But why would anyone ever join them?" Buckler says.

"Desperation. Same as us."

"Hey! Don't compare us to-" He cuts off when he notices the Hemopalooza woman staring over their shoulders at me. They snap their heads around to glare.

"How should you have seen this coming?" I demand.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you do. You're being defensive. You wouldn't do that if you didn't have something you don't want me to know. Tell me."

"It's none of your business."

I finger the bloody holes my coat and blouse, and the intact skin beneath. "It is now. You're clearly not happy with this situation. I'm not either, and neither is Wheels. We're all on the same side. So, what's going on with Hemopalooza that I don't know about? Why should you have seen this coming?" They don't say anything, but Tyler's grip on the syringe tightens. "It's related to the syringe, isn't it?" His eyes widen slightly, so I'm on the right track. I look at it more closely and then groan. "Pharmedica's serum is a dark red liquid. You've broken up their rallies. You've had a close look at the stuff. It's just blood, isn't it? Blood from one of us, from a super." Tyler starts to scowl, so I nod to myself. "And this means any of us can give somebody powers, if they survive, by just sharing blood with them." I glance to the Hemopalooza woman. "Meaning it was only a matter of time before these creeps stumbled onto that fact."

Tyler sighs. "I think it's worse than that. They didn't just figure it out. They're working with Pharmedica. Remember I said I recognized one of them? I thought she'd just joined them on her own. A fluke. But now..."

I blink. "That makes no sense whatsoever. We think the Butterflies might have been working with Pharmedica before, but why would Hemopalooza? Pharmedica have a diverse makeup."

Buckler snorts and jabs a thumb over his shoulder at the captive. "Did you see these guys?"

I squint at the trembling woman and pull out my recorder. "Talk." She moves her mouth, but nothing comes out. "Ease up on the fear, Cupid. We need her talking, not panicking." I wait while her terror fades into a sneer. "Now, you heard our conversation, right? What's going on with Hemopalooza?"

"I don't talk to blood traitors," she spits.

I raise an eyebrow at Tyler. "I am," he insists. "It ain't perfect. You know that."

I shrug and turn back to the woman. "You realize that your friend there was black, right? Not that this matters to me, but it seems to me like you're the one you should be calling a blood traitor."

"I am no such thing!" she screams, lunging at me. Buckler grabs her and pins her against the wall as she continues ranting. "We cleansed Nicole and Sandip and they passed the Trials! They have the Blood now! But you! You have the Blood, and yet you'd deny others their Trials! Your heart pumps naught but black, poisonous greed! When-"

"That's enough," says Tyler, and she suddenly slumps into Buckler's arms with a huge yawn. "She's too loud," Tyler says over his shoulder as he retrieves his arrows and Dillan. "And that fight wasn't quiet either. We need to move." Buckler extricates himself from beneath the woman and checks her pockets, then we use her shoelaces to tie her hands and feet together behind a lamppost before leaving.

Moving carefully to avoid exacerbating my injury, I watch our backs while Buckler helps Tyler hustle Dillan down the road. I call a stop ten minutes later. "We're getting close, so I need you to both put on blindfolds until we get there."

"What? You never said anything about blindfolds!"

"I thought we'd established that Wheels is too paranoid to let you know where he's staying."

"No, we established that he needed our help enough to take that risk."

"He needs Dillan's help enough to risk you and Buckler being in his presence while he's vulnerable. That isn't the same as letting you know where he's been staying."

"Well, we aren't going in blind. We don't trust you that far."

I roll my eyes. "If I was trying to pull something, why would I bother blindfolding you? I could have just burned you down in your tree house before you knew I was there."

"Maybe you want us alive. It wouldn't be the first time somebody tried that. Remember? Or did you enjoy your time with Pharmedica?"

I shudder and force the memories down. "Fair enough. Plan B. I'll convince him to meet us out here instead." Well, really we need to convince Tamara to have her security crew escort George and Patty out, but these two don't need all those details. I'm just reaching for my phone when a sharp crack echos through the night. It sounded like it might have been from- Five more gunshots follow, and I curse. "Alright, boys, Plan C. We're going in hot!"